


exit wounds

by fromnowhere (concalma)



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Goodbyes, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concalma/pseuds/fromnowhere
Summary: “Dressing up again, are we?” he says.
Relationships: Lt James W. Fairholme/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	exit wounds

“Dressing up again, are we?” he says.

In a jacket that isn’t his own, Fairholme turns, fiddling with epaulettes that don’t belong to him either. His own are in a box, under his bed. There is no use for them where he is going.

Despite all things, he smiles.

“How you like me best,” he tells him, like he means it, but it isn’t all that true. James is fond of Fairholme as he is always. “Help me with these, please?”

James steps closer to him. Each of amble stature, there is very little room to move in the tight space. It is only them and no more. Even the draught under the door is caught in the clutches of the curtain, unable to enter.

The epaulettes are gold. Lace, thread and purl. Fancier than those doomed to their box. James adjusts the fringe so that it falls more carefully down the edge of Fairholme’s shoulder, then fixes the other. He could be a commander, he thinks, if it were not for the youth not yet chipped from his features. Perhaps the ice will make him old too soon. Perhaps it will keep him young forever. Perhaps James will never know.

“There we are,” he says, setting his hands on Fairholme’s waist, beneath _his_ jacket, and leaning closer. “They suit you well.”

Fairholme turns his head and presses back.

“They’ll do capitally when I’m commander,” he says, “and you my captain, of course.”

James clutches him tighter and presses his nose into a notch of the lieutenant’s spine. His hands find the buttons of his waistcoat. A pair of hands find his. When he thinks they make to stop him, they guide him all the more lower. He feels him.

“Please, James,” Fairholme says, like the name does not belong to him. But it does—maybe more so. He belongs to everything more, even in jackets that do not belong to him. He does not belong to James. “Please, please, please.”

With this he turns. James’ hands fall down to his backside, but he moves them to untuck his shirt from his trousers. The downside to dressing up, of course, is that one must then be dressed down. What a terrible waste of grandeur, he thinks, tugging him by his hips towards his bed. Fairholme sits atop his lap, legs astride him. His moustached-kisses tickle.

Outside, the ice strangles Erebus at her stern.

And then Fairholme stops.

His hips, his lips, his hands; everything stills. His breath comes out in sharp bursts against James’ lips, his hands stay anchored to his shoulders. James soothes his back with a broad palm, hand slipping around to his flanks.

“I don’t want to do it,” he says. He nuzzles his nose to James’ temple. “James, I don’t want to go.”

James puts his arms around him entirely, thinks, _I don’t want that either_. He holds him, sways him, never wants to let go. But he must.

“But you must,” he says, curling his fingers in his hair, cradling his skull.

“I know.”

Fairholme’s hands come to his face. His thumbs slide across his cheeks, gentle as anything. There is still a smile on his face, but it no longer reaches his eyes. There are tears where joy should be. _If only I’d not taken you to this wretched place_ , he thinks, _you would not have to find the way out._

They shift. Fairholme lays his cheek on James’ chest, stroking a finger along his shoulder. James caresses his back, still warm under the fabric of his jacket, epaulettes glittering in the lantern light. He does not mind the weight of him. Will assuredly miss it soon.

“Just think of how joyous it will surely be when you come back for us,” James says.

“When I come back for you,” he says, then amends, “ _to_ you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [narrator] he did not come back.


End file.
